Phantasmally Ever After
by Serenade Goryo
Summary: Post Series, unrelated, Danny/Sam drabbles of the navel gazing, sigh inducing, and sometimes unapologetically fluffy variety.
1. Mortality

**Phantasmally Ever After**

Post Series, standalone Danny/Sam drabbles of the navel gazing, sigh inducing, and sometimes unapologetically fluffy variety.

**_Disclaimer: Do not own, do not sue._**

Mortality

With the death of my grandfather, I'd been witness to the slow and merciless failing of flesh, and I vowed not to leave the world like he had.

The battles, the constant cheating of death by facing down entities more powerful than myself were risks, choices that I made in living the life that I wanted...being with who I wanted. If this life was cut short because of the choices I made, it would still be a sweet one, a passionate one.

_"Missed you, Sam..." _

I felt the cold chill first, and then Danny's light touches across my hips. The clock above my desk ticked loudly in the background.

"You're late," I mumbled.

"Forgive me?" His lips found my neck, and the breath was pressed out of my lungs as he moved his body over mine. "Please?"

"Maybe," I said, sighing.

Of this I was certain; I didn t need to live forever, but I needed to _live_. Because like my grandfather - like the clock now marking every touch, every kiss and caress- I, too, would eventually wind down.

#


	2. Topsy Turvy

**_Disclaimer: Do not own, do not sue._**

Topsy Turvy

Sam struggles against me as I hold her tightly, against my chest, pinning her against the wall so that she can't escape.

"Let me go!" she screams, seething with unbridled rage as she glares across the room at the redheaded ghost girl who has gone from flirtatious and giggly…to silent. "She deserves it!"

The room is in shambles, huge holes and singed edges. Tucker curses under his breath as he blows a small flame from the top of his beret.

The terrified ghost girl flies, unprompted, into the thermos and I finally let Sam go. Pissed, she shoves me away and stomps off, ranting about, _"Teaching that trampy ghost a lesson she soon won't forget."_

"You know, Dude," Tucker says. "Unwarranted aggression with a compact ghost shredder is a sign of true love."

I lean back against the wall and check the lock on the thermos. "Maybe. I just never thought I'd see the day where I'd have to save a ghost from my _girlfriend_."

#


	3. The Nurse

**The Nurse**

Danny comes to me when he's hurt, and so I've learned all that I can. A cool pragmatism allows me to prepare myself for the worst before he arrives.

I've learned not to flinch at the fresh marks that slice across his chest or his arms, even though it is his blood that holds my greatest fascination; a blend of something both human and mysterious. Even if he comes to me nearly covered in it, I calmly clean it off and wrap his wounds in sterile bandages. Somehow, I manage to suppress my own fear of suffering so intensely, even while being awed by evidence of his.

If misery and suffering is sanctifying, then Danny is a saint.

But tonight, he comes free of little more than a few small cuts so I put away the bandages, holding him with unabashed affection.

I won't need the kit I've laid out on my dresser tonight, because the tools for healing the body are vastly different than those needed for healing the soul.

#


	4. Plans

**Best Laid Plans**

It wasn't planned.

They hadn't avoided talking about it or testing the limits of it – the latter of which was responsible for the situation they were currently in now – but it wasn't something they planned to do until the timing was right, they'd grown older and more mature, things were more settled and they were both ready.

And it had been the most normal of nights, the kind where nothing is unusual. Even if you were to step outside of yourself, you'd expect things to move along just as they always did. There had been laughing and kissing, and careful touches – just like always - until at one point, Sam shifted so her back would be more comfortable against the too soft mattress of Danny's bed, and in doing so enflamed an already aching need.

It wasn't perfect.

It was awkward, a little painful. But where there had been longing before, there was only relief. There was no regret. They held each other, talking in quiet whispers about things they'd never shared before and some things that they had.

Just like they were doing now, sitting on the floor of Sam's bathroom, Danny whispering bravely that they would do what they had to. It would be alright, no matter what, and that they have survived much worse.

And Sam nodded, believing in him, but still very much afraid, as the tiny tube of plastic with the two pink lines told her more about her future than any fortune teller ever could. She had no problem with choosing not to continue a pregnancy, but by the end of the night - she had chosen otherwise.

They both rehearsed how they wanted to tell her parents, Danny's parents, but it was hard to find the right words, to get them to understand how things had gone.

Because it definitely, most certainly - wasn't planned.

#


End file.
